


it's not my fault

by shatteredhourglass



Series: Winterhawk Bingo Again [5]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Check Chapter Descriptions For Tags, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet Collection, M/M, each chapter is a standalone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28915023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass
Summary: A collection of winterhawk fics under 1k. (Blood, sex, violence and murder version.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winterhawk Bingo Again [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963777
Comments: 28
Kudos: 88
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	1. Winter Soldier!Clint/Red Room!Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't feel morally okay with putting these ones in a collection with the softer ones. So you get a nice ficlet collection, and a naughty one. Congrats. Some are just sex, some are graphic violence, some will be a lovely mix of both, so: PLEASE CHECK THE CHAPTER DESCRIPTIONS FOR TAGS.
> 
> Chapter 1: Graphic violence, death (unnamed characters), blood, severe injury, a little sad (but they'll be okay in the end)

“ _We’re working with Hydra for this one_ ,” Yelena says, the sound of her voice muffled by her rifle reloading loud over the walkie-talkie on his belt. “ _Don’t fuck it up_.”

Bucky snatches a keycard off a desk and swipes it into the nearby door, ignoring the black arrow rammed into the glass window. “Looks like they’re already here. Did you know they were sending the Winter Soldier in?”

Yelena lets out a slew of swearwords in Russian. “ _No. Let’s hope he hasn’t destroyed the hard drives before the Red Room can get what it needs._ ”

Bucky’s not sure he’s ever heard of Hydra’s pets being good at subtlety. Then again, he’s only been allowed out of the Red Room’s facilities for the last three months so maybe his knowledge isn’t up to scratch. No one talks about the Winter Soldier, not really. (One of the girls told a tale of a black-suited ghost once, but she’d been quickly silenced.)

The corridor he walks down is empty apart from the corpses, all with a perfect bullet through the center of their foreheads.

Bucky ignores them.

“ _I’m heading to the basement. Check the ground floor._ ”

“Got it.”

He steps into the next room and then pauses at the carnage in front of him.

It’s not like Bucky’s squeamish - they don’t allow that, in the Red Room - but this is a _lot_. The stench makes him grimace and he’s briefly glad for the Red Room’s tall black boots so there’s no chance of the gore strewn across the floor soaking into his clothes.

The dead are piled up in stacks, bodies upon bodies riddled with arrows and bullet holes, charred from an explosion Bucky didn’t get to see. Who let this monster loose before they could get here? (And why do all the ones murdered with arrows make him feel sick to his stomach?)

“ _Found the hard drives._ ”

“Found the scientists,” Bucky answers, crouching down to prod a bloodstained lab coat with the barrel of his gun.

“ _Seen the Winter Soldier?_ ”

“I don’t think I want to,” he says.

When he turns his head, he sees a man sitting with his back to the wall.

This man is alone in the sea of corpses - none of them lay close enough to touch his black tactical gear, and the smeared trail of blood suggests he’d crawled away from the fight once it was done. A similarly dark mask is sitting in his lap along with a handgun, and Bucky only notices the sleek bow next to him a moment later.

Bucky freezes.

For a minute he thinks the man’s dead.

Then the archer drags in a ragged breath, lets out a weak-sounding cough a moment later.

Technically, Bucky could pretend that he hadn’t noticed this. It’s not a smart idea to get too close, looking at the mess of bodies around them. The Red Room is supposed to be allied with Hydra for this, though, and the archer doesn’t look like he could pose a threat to a kitten right now. One of his gloved hands is pressed to his side - must be bad, if he could do nothing more than crawl.

Underneath all the blood, Bucky can see that his hair is a soft golden blond.

There’s something sad about it, strangely.

Everything he’s been taught at the Red Room tells him to steer clear of this man but he finds himself crouching next to the archer anyway, trying to gauge how much of the blood on the floor is his and how much is from his victims.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

For a moment he thinks the rough whisper is in his own head, the way it does sometimes. He raises his gaze to see the archer watching him with crystal-blue eyes, at odds with the red and black surrounding him.

“Got nowhere else to be,” Bucky responds, and the archer lets out an amused huff. “Is it fatal?”

“Might be,” he says.

“I’ll call your handler,” Bucky says. He reaches for his walkie-talkie and a gloved hand grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” the archer croaks. “It’s okay.”

“Doesn’t look okay,” Bucky answers. What about this is _okay_? “I thought the Winter Soldier was unkillable.”

“That’s karma for you. It’s what I-” he breaks off, making an aborted movement like he’d wanted to curl in on himself but found it too agonizing. “-ugh. Deserve. I chose this when I volunteered to be the new Winter Soldier.”

“Who would _choose_ this?”

“The details are getting kind of fuzzy these days,” the archer says, closing his eyes for a moment. The blood is seeping through his black uniform now, smearing crimson against Bucky’s metal fingers. He doesn’t remember reaching out to touch the man’s face. It’s bad. “I know it was - _shit_ \- it was to save someone.”

“This isn’t saving anyone,” Bucky says.

A faint smile crosses the archer’s lips. “I traded myself in for someone else. One soldier’s just as good as another for these guys, especially if you’re already trained.”

Bucky looks at his face. “Was it worth it?”

His walkie-talkie crackles before the archer can answer. “ _James, I’ve been at the extraction point for ten minutes. Where the fuck are you?_ ”

When he looks up, the archer is still. His heart jolts painfully in his chest when he realizes - _why does he care what happens to this guy?_ \- and then Bucky sees the tiniest rise and fall of breathing under the crushed body armour. The relief that hits him nearly takes his own breath away.

“James, report to the extraction point _now_. The Avengers are in the east corridor, repeat, Avengers in the east corridor.”

Bucky looks at the archer’s unconscious face, underneath all the blood and grime. Feels a flicker of something in the back of his mind.

He gets to his feet.

Heads down the east corridor.

“Don’t move.”

“I’m defecting,” Bucky says, putting his hands up. “Red Room. All the intel and tech in the world you could possibly want.”

The red-haired woman lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”

Bucky jerks his head to the side, towards the other room. “There’s a guy in there. Injured. Save his life and I’ll give you everything.”

“The Red Room doesn’t allow for attachments,” she says.

“They don’t,” Bucky agrees. “But I’ve got questions.”

The woman regards him for a moment. Whatever she sees in his face, it makes her lower her gun, although she doesn’t turn her back to him as she lifts one hand to her ear. “You’d best make this worth my while.”

Truth is, Bucky doesn’t know if it’s worth it.

But something deep inside him insists it is, and suddenly the Red Room doesn’t seem that important anymore.


	2. Supersoldier Refractory Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Tags: Explicit sexual content, rough, little bit of BDSM vibes, hair-pulling, anal, unprotected sex, facefucking

“Fuck,” Clint spits as Bucky shoves into him with enough force that the kitchen counter digs into his stomach. “ _Fuck_ , don’t stop.”

A fistful of his hair is grabbed and he lets out a hiss as Bucky pulls his head back, sharp teeth grazing his exposed throat. His hips stop and Clint’s breath gets caught in an embarrassing whine, Bucky’s dick deep inside him. “I’m not taking orders from you, Barton. You want something, you ask _nicely_.”

God, he’s so fucked.

Bucky lets go and Clint’s head falls forward, panting down at faded wood as his scalp stings. Cold metal cups his hip instead, soothing circles traced against his skin. It’s too gentle - too much like _caring_ \- for Clint to handle, so he pushes back until Bucky loses his patience and starts thrusting again. Somehow Bucky knows exactly how hard Clint can take it before it’s too much, and then he rides that line of too much until they’re both breathless.

This is how Clint dies; Bucky Barnes being some kind of a sex god.

They’re not dating - not even friends with benefits because they’re _not_ friends but Clint’s always had a talent for riling people up and this is the first time it’s ended in a way where he’s not washing blood off of his knuckles at the end. Bucky likes hurting Clint but he never takes it far enough to cause any significant injuries (as much as Clint wishes he would sometimes), and Clint’s more than happy to take whatever he dishes out.

“Bucky,” Clint gasps out. “I’m - god, I need-”

“Tell me,” Bucky orders.

The next thrust sparks up Clint’s spine and shorts out his brain, his fingers clenching uselessly on the counter as his mouth works without his permission. “I need _you_.”

It’s the wrong answer, the bad answer - he’s not supposed to make this any more than it is. He can always pretend it’s an unfinished sentence and he’d meant _I need you to fuck me_ but he already knows Bucky can see right through his bullshit. It had come out too honest anyway. He’s done.

Clint’s half-expecting Bucky to leave him high and dry.

What he’s not expecting is for Bucky to shudder and pull out, coming in messy wet lines on his lower back.

Being extremely turned on and confused means that Clint can’t do much more than hold himself on trembling legs, abruptly aware that he’s in an extremely vulnerable position here. Vulnerable in a sexy way is hot - vulnerable in a _feelings_ way is fucking terrifying.

Clint doesn’t move. Just breathes, shaky and loud in the sudden silence. He can’t see what Bucky’s doing. Can’t even see his expression to tell what he’s thinking about, and he thinks maybe Bucky’s gone and left the apartment without even a goodbye when fingers trace up his bare spine, smearing the cum there.

“Turn around.”

Clint turns, because there’s not much else he can do. He’s still embarrassingly hard and it’s glaringly obvious as he presses his back to the counter, fingers digging into the wood.

Bucky’s flushed, his hair somehow even messier than Clint’s and something _weird_ in his expression. Clint doesn’t know what his own face is doing but it’s probably fear, because that’s all he can feel aside from the intense desire to get off. There’s no danger coming off of Bucky the way that it normally does when they do this - not it was like a few minutes ago - and Clint’s ruined it like he does with every nice thing, hasn’t he?

“I-” Clint starts, but he’s interrupted.

“On your knees.”

Clint sinks down because he’s already in too deep, too weak to deny Bucky anything he asks for. The kitchen tiles are cold against his knees and it’s going to _ache_ when he gets up again, but right now he settles himself into a position that’ll be the least uncomfortable while he’s down here.

Bucky watches him the whole time and then steps closer. His fingers card through Clint’s hair, pushing the sweaty locks off of his forehead with a tenderness that makes Clint feel queasy. Is this a joke? Whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“Open your mouth,” Bucky says, hand drifting down to Clint’s cheek.

Clint opens and he guides his dick inside, more careful than he normally is. He still tastes of cum and Clint realizes Bucky’s hard again already, marvels at the wonder that is super-soldier refractory periods. Maybe they don’t have to acknowledge it. It’s not a big deal, Clint’s thing for Bucky.

Bucky’s not gentle about fucking his face, but he touches Clint’s hair like he’s grateful as Clint tongues at his dick absently, each push knocking a soft grunt out of him. He’s always more sensitive the second time around and Clint _likes_ giving Bucky more orgasms even if he doesn’t know what to do about the sudden change in attitude.

“That’s it,” Bucky says. “Take it so pretty for me, Barton.”

Clint doesn’t even realize he’s moaned around Bucky’s dick at the word _pretty_ until a moment later, when Bucky’s fingers tighten in his hair. It’s not enough to hurt - just an acknowledgement - and he’s a little confused by it even as he keeps taking each thrust.

“Get yourself off. Use your hand,” Bucky orders, sounding breathless over the wet noises of his cock in Clint’s throat.

Clint’s already stupidly turned on so he just does what he’s told, the sensation of his own fingers reducing his thoughts to white noise. It’s been building up since Bucky had strode into his apartment with purpose and he’s already desperate for it, already shivering from his own touch as Bucky fucks into his mouth with purpose.

Suddenly Bucky pulls out, metal fingers stroking Clint’s spit down his own length. “Beg me for it.”

“Please,” Clint says, too lust-drunk to come up with more. “Please, Bucky, I’m-”

“You can come,” Bucky says. He’s still touching himself but his gaze is fixed directly on Clint’s face. Not even his body and Clint doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to that, why Bucky’s looking at him like that or why he _likes_ it.

It’s what tips him over the edge - Bucky looking down at him like he’s trying to commit every single inch of Clint’s face to memory - and his breath catches on a gasp as he comes, his whole body aching from the force of it.

Bucky lets him breathe for a few long seconds and then pushes his cock back into Clint’s slack mouth, coming himself a second later. Clint swallows automatically, lets himself slump back against the counter and his eyes fall shut when he’s sure that they’re done.

He twitches when hands touch his face, more gentle than they have any right to be. “You’ve got cum on your chin.”

“’s fine,” Clint murmurs, his voice coming out rough. He can feel it drying on his face, a tacky mix of cum and his own drool, and it's going to be annoying once his brain decides to start working again. He's got at least a few minutes before that happens though.

“You’re a slob,” Bucky says.

It sounds less like an insult and more like affection.

He doesn’t know what to say in return.

“Clint.”

“Mm?”

“You want to go out sometime?”

Clint blinks his eyes open, curious. “Like public sex? Sure.”

“Not-” Bucky sighs. “Not sex.”

_Oh_. “I, uh. I don’t understand what’s happening here, Barnes.”

Clint’s not prepared for the way Bucky crowds into his personal space, metal hand slamming into the wall next to his ear with a _thump_. “Fine. We’ll do it this way. You and I are going on a date. Friday. I’m not asking.”

“I have a SHIELD mission on Friday,” Clint answers.

“Blow it off,” Bucky says flatly, and how can Clint possibly say no to that?


End file.
